Tom Burke Of "Ours" Volume I Part 49

"Your life is in danger; any delay may be your ruin. Address the minister at once as to the cause of your detention, and for the charges under which you are committed; demand permission to consult an advocate, and when demanded it can't be refused. Write to Monsieur Baillot, of 4 Rue Chantereine, in whom you may trust implicitly, and who has already instructions for your defence. Accept the enclosed, and believe in the faithful attachment of a sincere friend."

A billet de hanque for three thousand francs was folded in the note, and fell to the ground as I read it.

"_Parbleu!_ I'll not ask you to tear this, though," said the jailer, as he handed it to me. "And now let me see you destroy the other."

I read and re-read the few lines over and over, some new meaning striking me at each word, while I asked myself from whom it could have come. Was it De Beauvais? or dare I hope it was one dearest to me of all the world? Who, then, in the saddest hour of my existence, could step between me and my sorrow, and leave hope as my companion in the dreary solitude of a prison?

"Again I say be quick," cried the jailer; "my being here so long may be remarked. Tear it at once."

He followed with an eager eye every morsel of paper as it fell from my hand, and only seemed at ease as the last dropped to the ground; and then, without speaking a word, unlocked the door and withdrew.

The shipwrecked sailor, clinging to some wave-tossed raft, and watching with bloodshot eye the falling day, where no friendly sail has once appeared, and at last, as every hope dies out one by one within him, he hears a cheer break through the plashing of the sea, calling on him to live, may feel something like what were my sensations, as once more alone in my cell I thought of the friendly voice that could arouse me from my cold despair, and bid me hope again.

What a change came over the world to my eyes! The very cell itself no longer seemed dark and dreary; the faint sunlight that fell through the narrow window seemed soft and mellow; the voices I heard without struck me not as dissonant and harsh; the reckless gayety I shuddered at, the dark treachery I abhorred,--I could now compa.s.sionate the one and openly despise the other; and it was with that stout determination at my heart that I sallied forth into the garden, where still the others lingered, waiting for the drum that summoned them to dinner.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV. THE CHOUANS

When night came, and all was silent in the prison, I sat down to write my letter to the minister. I knew enough of such matters to be aware that brevity is the great requisite; and therefore, without any attempt to antic.i.p.ate my accusation by a defence of my motives, I simply but respectfully demanded the charges alleged against me, and prayed for the earliest and most speedy investigation into my conduct. Such were the instructions of my unknown friend, and as I proceeded to follow them, their meaning at once became apparent to me. Haste was recommended, evidently to prevent such explanations and inquiries into my conduct as more time might afford. My appearance at the chteau might still be a mystery to them, and one which might remain unfathomable if any plausible reason were put forward. And what more could be laid to my charge? True, the brevet of colonel found on my person; but this I could with truth allege had never been accepted by me. They would scarcely condemn me on such testimony, unsupported by any direct charge; and who could bring such save De Beauvais? Flimsy and weak as such pretexts were, yet were they enough in my then frame of mind to support my courage and nerve my heart. But more than all I trusted in the sincere loyalty I felt for the cause of the Government and its great chief,--a sentiment which, however difficult to prove, gave myself that inward sense of safety which only can flow from strong convictions of honesty.

"It may so happen," thought I, "that circ.u.mstances may appear against me; but I know and feel my heart is true and firm, and even at the worst, such a consciousness will enable me to bear whatever may be my fortune."

The next morning my altered manner and happier look excited the attention of the others, who by varions endeavors tried to fathom the cause or learn any particulars of my fate; but in vain, for already I was on my guard against even a chance expression, and, save on the most commonplace topics, held no intercourse with any. Far from being offended at my reserve, they seemed rather to have conceived a species of respect for one whose secrecy imparted something of interest to him; and while they tried, by the chance allusion to political events and characters, to sound me, I could see that, though baffled, they by no means gave up the battle.

As time wore on, this half-persecution died away; each day brought some prisoner or other amongst us, or removed some of those we had to other places of confinement, and thus I became forgotten in the interest of newer events. About a week after my entrance we were walking as usual about the gardens, when a rumor ran that a prisoner of great consequence had been arrested the preceding night and conveyed to the Temple; and various surmises were afloat as to who he might be, or whether he should be au secret or at large. While the point was eagerly discussed, a low door from the house was opened, and the jailer appeared, followed by a large, powerful man, whom in one glance I remembered as the chief of the Vendean party at the chteau, and the same who effected his escape in the Bois de Boulogne. He pa.s.sed close to where I stood, his arm folded on his breast; his clear blue eye bent calmly on me, yet never by the slightest sign did he indicate that we had ever met before. I divined at once his meaning, and felt grateful for what I guessed might be a measure necessary to my safety.

"I tell you," said a shrivelled old fellow, in a worn dressing-gown and slippers, who held the "Moniteur" of that day in his hand, "I tell you it is himself; and see, his hand is wounded, though he does his best to conceal the bandage in his bosom."

"Well, well! read us the account; where did it occur?" cried two or three in a breath.

The old man seated himself on a bench, and having arranged his spectacles and unfolded the journal, held out his hand to proclaim silence, when suddenly a wild cheer broke from the distant part of the garden, whither the newly arrived prisoner had turned his steps; a second, louder, followed, in which the wild cry of "Vive le Roi!" could be distinctly heard.

"You hear them," said the old man; "was I right now? I knew it must be him."

"Strange enough, too, he should not be _au secret_," said another; "the generals have never been suffered to speak to any one since their confinement. But read on, let us hear it."

"'On yesterday morning,'" said the little man, reading aloud, "'Picot, the servant of George, was arrested; and although every endeavor was made to induce him to confess where his master was--'"

"Do you know the meaning of that phrase, Duchos?" said a tall, melancholy-looking man, with a bald head. "That means the torture; thumb screws and flint vices are the mode once more: see here."

As he spoke he undid a silk handkerchief that was wrapped around his wrist, and exhibited a hand that seemed actually smashed into fragments; the bones were forced in many places through the flesh, which hung in dark-colored and blood-stained pieces about.

"I would show that hand at the tribunal," muttered an old soldier in a faded blue frock; "I'd hold it up when they 'd ask me to swear."

"Your head would only fare the worse for doing so," said the Abb. "Read on Monsieur Duchos."

"Oh, where was I? (_Pardieu!_ Colonel, I wish you would cover that up; I shall dream of that terrible thumb all night.) Here we are: 'Though nothing could be learned from Picot, it was ascertained that the brigand--'"

"Ha, ha!" said a fat little fellow in a blouse, "they call them all brigands: Moreau is a brigand; Pichegru is a brigand too."

"'That the brigand had pa.s.sed Monday night near Chaillot, and on Tuesday, towards evening, was seen at Sainte-Genevieve, where it was suspected he slept on the mountain; on Wednesday the police traced him to the cabriolet stand at the end of the Rue de Cond, where he took a carriage and drove towards the Odon.'"

"Probably he was going to the spectacle. What did they play that night?"

said the fat man; "'La Mort de Barberousse,' perhaps."

The other read on: "'The officer cried out, as he seized the bridle, "Je vous arrte!" when George levelled a pistol and shot him through the forehead, and then springing over the dead body dashed down the street.

The butchers of the neighborhood, who knew the reward offered for his apprehension, pursued and fell upon him with their hatchets; a hand-to-hand encounter followed, in which the brigand's wrist was nearly severed from his arm; and thus disabled and overpowered, he was secured and conveyed to the Temple.'"

"And who is this man?" said I in a whisper to the tall person near me."

"The General George Cadoudal,--a brave Breton, and a faithful follower of his King," replied he; "and may Heaven have pity on him now!" He crossed himself piously as he spoke, and moved slowly away.

"General Cadoudal!" repeated I to myself; "the same whose description figured on every wall of the capital, and for whose apprehension immense rewards were offered." And with an inward shudder I thought of my chance intercourse with the man to harbor whom was death,--the dreaded chief of the Chouans, the daring Breton of whom Paris rung with stories. And this was the companion of Henri de Beauvais.

Revolving such thoughts, I strolled along unconsciously, until I reached the place where some days before I had seen the Vendeans engaged in prayer. The loud tone of a deep voice arrested my steps. I stopped and listened. It was George himself who spoke; he stood, drawn up to his full height, in the midst of a large circle who sat around on the gra.s.s.

Though his language was a _patois_ of which I was ignorant, I could catch here and there some indication of his meaning, as much perhaps from his gesture and the look of those he addressed, as from the words themselves.

It was an exhortation to them to endure with fort.i.tude the lot that had befallen them; to meet death when it came without fear, as they could do so without dishonor; to strengthen their courage by looking to him, who would always give them an example of what they should be. The last words he spoke were in a plainer dialect, and almost these: "Throw no glance on the past. We are where we are,--we are where G.o.d, in his wisdom and for his own ends, has placed us. If this cause be just, our martyrdom is a blessed one; if it be not so, our death is our punishment. And never forget that you are permitted to meet it from the same spot where our glorious monarch went to meet his own."

A cry of "Vive le Roi!" half stifled by sobs of emotion, broke from the listeners, as they rose and pressed around him. There he stood in the midst, while like children they came to kiss his hand, to hear him speak one word, even to look on him. Their swarthy faces, where hardship and suffering had left many a deep line and furrow, beamed with smiles as he turned towards them; and many a proud look was bent on the rest by those to whom he addressed a single word.

One I could not help remarking above the others,--a slight, pale, and handsome youth, whose almost girlish cheek the first down of youth was shading. George leaned his arm round his neck, and called him by his name, and in a voice almost tremulous from emotion: "And you, Bouvet de Lozier, whose infancy wanted nothing of luxury and enjoyment, for whom all that wealth and affection could bestow were in abundance,--how do you bear these rugged reverses, my dear boy?"

The youth looked up with eyes bathed in tears; the hectic spot in his face gave way to the paleness of death, and his lips moved without a sound.

"He has been ill,--the count has," said a peasant, in a low voice.

"Poor fellow!" said George; "he was not meant for trials like these; the cares he used to bury in his mother's lap met other consolations than our ruder ones. Look up, Bouvet, my man, and remember you are a man."

The youth trembled from head to foot, and looked fearfully around, as if dreading something, while he clutched the strong arm beside him, as though for protection.

"Courage, boy, courage!" said George. "We are together here; what can harm you?"

Then dropping his voice, and turning to the rest, he added, "They have been tampering with his reason; his eye betrays a wandering intellect.

Take him with you, Claude,--he loves you; and do not leave him for a moment."

The youth pressed George's fingers to his pale lips, and with his head bent down and listless gait, moved slowly away.

As I wandered from the spot, my heart was full of all I had witnessed.

The influence of their chief had surprised me on the night of the attack on the chteau. But how much more wonderful did it seem now when confined within the walls of a prison,--the only exit to which was the path that led to the guillotine! Yet was their reliance on all he said as great, as implicit their faith in him, as warm their affection, as though success had crowned each effort he suggested, and that fortune had been as kind as she had proved adverse to his enterprise.

Such were the _Chohans_ in the Temple. Life had presented to their hardy natures too many vicissitudes to make them quail beneath the horrors of a prison; death they had confronted in many shapes, and they feared it not even at the hands of the executioner. Loyalty to the exiled family of France was less a political than a religious feeling,--one inculcated at the altar, and carried home to the fireside of the cottage. Devotion to their King was a part of their faith; the sovereign was but a saint the more in their calendar. The glorious triumphs of the Revolutionary armies, the great conquests of the Consulate, found no sympathy within their bosoms; they neither joined the battle nor partook of the ovation.

They looked on all such as the pa.s.sing pageant of the hour, and muttered to one another that the bon Dieu could not bless a nation that was false to its King.

Who could see them as they met each morning, and not feel deeply interested in these brave but simple peasants? At daybreak they knelt together in prayer, their chief officiating as priest; their deep voices joined in the hymn of their own native valleys, as with tearful eyes they sang the songs that reminded them of home. The service over, George addressed them in a short speech: some words of advice and guidance for the coming day; reminding them that ere another morning shone, many might be summoned before the tribunal to be examined, and from, thence led forth to death; exhorting them to fidelity to each other and loyalty to their glorious cause. Then came the games of their country, which they played with all the enthusiasm of liberty and happiness. These were again succeeded by hours pa.s.sed in hearing and relating stories of their beloved Bretagne,--of its tried faith and its ancient bravery; while, through all, they lived a community apart from the other prisoners, who never dared to obtrude upon them: nor did the most venturesome of the police spies ever transgress a limit that might have cost him his life.

Thus did two so different currents run side by side within the walls of the Temple, and each regarding the other with distrust and dislike.